


Three Victory Day

by yanatya



Category: West Wing
Genre: F/M, PWP, Standalone
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2003-08-06
Updated: 2003-08-06
Packaged: 2017-10-11 08:25:52
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,536
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/110374
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yanatya/pseuds/yanatya
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Josh was already having a pretty good day even before he dropped in on Donna.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Three Victory Day

**Author's Note:**

> To Christine on the occasion of her birthday.

"Oh God."

God, the man was hot. He was lounging, shoulder propped up against the doorframe to her apartment, hands thrust in the pockets of his well-tailored trousers, smirking and looking good enough to eat.

Of course, the fact that he was here at her apartment when he'd specifically given her Sunday off probably meant that...

"Oh God."

She'd had a sinking feeling when she'd heard the knock on the door. Was it too much to ask, she'd wondered, to have just a few hours to herself? Apparently.

"You said that already," Josh pointed out helpfully.

"Josh!" Donna protested. "You said I could stay home today. That means no work!"

"Our work is never done, Donnatella." Still grinning, he pushed away from the doorframe and strode into her apartment.

"Oh God."

"What, did I interrupt some big plans?" he asked, chuckling.

"You're in that...mood."

"I'm in a good mood, Donna."

"And you're dressed in a suit, which means you either just came from work or are heading to work, and that means...oh God."

"You know, a little enthusiasm on your part would be appreciated."

"I can't go to work, Josh."

"I don't need you to go to work."

"Oh." She tried to keep the look of relief off her face and failed.

"No, Donna, I come to celebrate victory."

"Victory? Oh, with..."

"Yes, Donna, I triumphed. There may have been brunch at the restaurant, but I had Somers eating out of the palm of my hand."

She'd forgotten the Somers thing. That was why he was wearing the suit. "Congratulations," she said, letting the door to the hall open wider, hoping in vain he'd take the hint.

"Congratulations?" He frowned.

He'd missed the hint. "Yes, Josh," she said politely. "Congratulations. That must feel very good."

"Donna, when was the last time you congratulated me on something?"

"Well, yesterday you stapled your tie to..."

"Never."

"Josh..."

"You have never congratulated me on a victory since we've known each other."

"I've been known to let out a celebratory whoop when the occasion warranted."

"A celebratory whoop," he repeated, then paused. "What's going on?"

She couldn't help it. She tensed up. Damn, she had to get better control over her body language, because he was going to notice...

He did. "You have someone here." He stated it as a fact.

"Yes," she admitted.

"A date?" he squeaked, suddenly looking acutely uncomfortable.

"No!"

The tension drained from his posture as quickly as it had appeared. She noted the smirk as he switched back up into high gear. It was the time-to-have-some-fun-with-Donna smirk.

"Then who?" He made as if to move past her down her hall and into the apartment.

She stepped in front of him to block his path and he grinned. "Margaret," she said.

"Margaret? Well, let me go say hello..." He started to move around her and she stepped in front of him again. He almost laughed out loud.

"No, Josh. We're doing--um--girl stuff."

"Girl stuff."

"Yeah," she said defensively.

"That's the best you can come up with?"

"Apparently."

She watched helplessly as he pushed past her to the living room.

*****

It wasn't a sight you saw every day. He admitted that freely.

Margaret was kneeling in the middle of Donna's living room, surrounded by a sea of pink plastic shopping bags, doing a little arm and shoulder shimmy in time to the music on the stereo.

And she was singing.

"'Cuz my body's so bootylicious baby my body's so bootyliciouuuuuuuuuuuus..."

"Bring it home, Margaret."

She dropped her arms and looked up at him in shock. Clearing her throat, she said, "Hey Josh," in a much deeper voice than the one she'd been using to sing with. Her face fell into its usual solemn mask, but she couldn't hide the blush that was flooding her cheeks.

"How's it going?"

She stumbled to her feet and nearly tripped over one of the pink bags. "Fine," she said in an almost normal tone.

"I just came to tell Donna I got Somers."

"Congratulations," Margaret replied. "I'll tell Leo."

He decided it was much more fun to celebrate with Donna. "You going in today?"

"Yeah. After we're done here." She gestured at the pink bags.

"I noticed those." He took a few steps farther into the living room and nodded at the bags.

"Josh..." Donna said warningly from behind him.

He ignored her. "What's all this?"

"Oh," said Margaret. "Heather from the temp pool is getting married, so we had one of those showers where..."

Donna loudly cleared her throat, and Margaret stopped abruptly.

"Where?" Josh pressed.

"You can buy all sorts of stuff," Margaret finished weakly.

"Oh, like a Tupperware party?"

"That kind of thing exactly." She nodded vigorously.

He grinned. It was starting to feel like a two-victory kind of day. "But this isn't Tupperware," he observed, not bothering to keep his amusement in check.

"Uh, no..." Margaret started to explain.

Donna cut her off. "But I'm sure she'll use the things she got...Josh!"

He backed away from the pink bag he'd opened. "Whoa."

"You're not supposed to look in there!"

"Was that what I think it was?"

Donna sighed. "Yes."

"It looked pretty big."

"They always do, the first time," she smirked.

He opened his mouth, then shut it. "So, all these bags have one of...those..."

"On, no," said Margaret helpfully. "Donna and I have been putting everyone's personal orders together. See, my cousin's husband's sister runs these parties, and since we all work at the White House, we thought it would be better to distribute everyone's purchases discreetly, so my cousin brought everything here, with the bags, and Donna and I have been separating out the..."

He held up a hand to stop her. "I get it. So whose bag is that? Who bought the big, lifelike..."

"Josh!" Donna cut him off.

"Oh, come on, Donna."

"No. It was someone who works at the White House. That's all you need to know. And he or she certainly wasn't the only person who bought one."

"Did you?"

"No!" She blushed.

He grinned. "It's okay, you can tell...wait. What do you mean, he or she? There were guys at this shower?"

"Yeah."

"How come I didn't get to come?" he practically whined.

"Do you even know who Heather is?"

He frowned.

"See?" Donna said rhetorically.

"And Sam came, anyway," Margaret added helpfully, oblivious to Donna's sudden frantic gestures behind Josh's back. "So it's not like the Senior staff wasn't represented."

"Sam got to go?" He turned and looked at Donna reproachfully.

"You were busy!" she protested.

"No I wasn't!"

"How do you know? You don't even know when we had the party." She looked to Margaret for help, but Margaret was again engrossed with the bags, murmuring under her breath in time with the stereo.

"I couldn't have been that busy, if both you *and* Sam were free," he reasoned.

"Josh..." Her voice trailed off and she gave him a weary look.

"Fine," he said. "Which bag is Sam's?" He knelt down and started to rummage through the sea of pink plastic.

"Josh, no." Donna was next to him immediately, grabbing his wrists. "These bags are confidential."

"Trust me, Donna, I have clearance."

"It's not a matter of national security," she sighed, keeping a firm grip on his wrists.

"Fine." He stood up and she decided it was safe to let him go. Watching him warily, she got up off the floor too.

"So," he began. "In a purely hypothetical way..."

"No, Josh."

"Aw, c'mon, Donna..."

"If you're sexy and you know it clap your hands..."

They both turned to look down at Margaret, who was singing under her breath, and who had stopped her task of labelling bags to clap in time to the music. She looked up at them. "Sorry," she said, "Bridal shower soundtrack."

They both stared at her for a long moment. Seizing the break in his concentration, Donna tried for misdirection, tugging Josh away from the bags. "So, you got Somers?"

"Got?...Yeah. It was really good. It hasn't been this good since...well, since I crushed Russell, and put Mandy's little..." His head turned back towards the pink bags as if he were being called by them.

"Wow. It must have been really good, then." She tried to get his attention and failed.

"I was just wondering, what could a guy possibly..."

Margaret looked up from her position on the floor. "Oh, there's tons of stuff. There's this ring, made out of soft jelly latex, well, technically it's two rings joined together, and they stretch so you can put a..."

"You know what?" Josh interrupted her. "Maybe I can't have this conversation now."

"Okay," Margaret said innocently. She looked down at her work and back up at Donna. "I think we're done. I'll take these for the temp pool and OEOB," she grabbed several bags in each hand and lifted, "and you deliver ops and communication."

"Thanks, Margaret," Donna replied.

"And I took Sam's," Margaret stage-whispered in Donna's ear as she passed. Donna gave her a relieved grin.

"Margaret, wait," Josh called. "You dropped something."

Frowning, Margaret put her bags down by the door and came back. Josh picked up the bottle of clear liquid and gestured to her.

"Oh!" she exclaimed. "I forgot. Donna," she turned, "I think we got an extra bottle of grape orgy."

Donna frowned. "Are you sure?"

"Yeah. I double checked. Everyone who ordered one has one."

Donna paused, thinking. "Should we..." She gestured.

"I don't think it matters," Margaret said firmly. "She said something about a hostess gift."

Donna's mouth quirked with humour. "So, do you want it, or can I have it?"

"I want it!" Josh broke in.

"Josh..." Donna began.

"No. You wouldn't let me come to the party. I want this," he examined the label again, "whatever it is, girly, fruity smelling...stuff."

"You don't even know what it is!" she protested. "Let alone how to use it."

"Besides," Margaret added helpfully, again oblivious to Donna's frantic gestures behind Josh's back, "it really requires two people."

He looked at her disbelievingly. "It does not."

Margaret took the bottle from him and opened it. "Stick out your wrist," she instructed.

Josh paused a moment, then slipped off his suit jacket and undid the cuff of his sleeve. Margaret dabbed some of the oil on the inside of his wrist. "Rub it in," she said.

He looked at her carefully, but did as she asked.

"Now, Donna," she continued. "Blow."

Throwing an impatient glance at Margaret, Donna reached for Josh's hand and blew a soft stream of air across his skin.

Josh realized then that the oil was self-heating; the patch of skin he'd covered warmed deliciously by several degrees. "Wow."

"Nice, huh," Margaret agreed. "Now take a sniff."

"It doesn't smell too bad," he relented. He inhaled again. Not bad at all.

"Now lick," Margaret said.

Watching her, he raised his wrist to his mouth. It didn't taste bad either. "I like it," he said.

"You can't have it," Donna said firmly, taking the bottle from Margaret and capping it. "I want it."

Margaret grinned. "Actually, I got the chocolate one, so you two can fight over it."

Josh tugged the bottle away from Donna. "Hah."

She grabbed it back and hugged it to herself protectively. "No."

"C'mon, who are you going to use it with?" he asked.

"Yeah, Donna," Margaret jumped in. "It's not like you're seeing..."

"Who are *you* going to use it with?" Donna interrupted, directing her question at Josh.

Josh opened his mouth, then closed it again. "I'm sure I could..."

"I'll leave you two to sort it out," Margaret broke in. "I have to get to work."

Donna stopped glaring at Josh long enough to acknowledge her. "Thanks for your help, Margaret," she said.

Margaret gave a small smile to her friend, who was still clutching the extra bottle of massage oil, and decided to have some fun. "And thanks for yours. And Josh," she beckoned him to come closer, "this one right here," she used her foot to nudge one of the pink bags still sitting on the floor, "is Donna's."

"Margaret!" Donna screeched.

But Margaret had already made a run for it. With a hasty "bye, Donna," she gathered up her bags and slammed the door behind her.

Donna turned back to see Josh holding her bag and wearing the biggest, smuggest smirk she'd ever seen. "So, Donna," he began. "What am I going to find in here? A big, lifelike..."

"No!" She tried to grab the bag back from him but he held on. "There is nothing of that...nature... in the bag. Just girly, fruity-smelling stuff you wouldn't be interested in."

"Oh, I'm interested already."

"Josh!" She could tell he was teasing her, at least mostly, but she didn't want to give in and let him look. Sighing, she held out the self-heating massage oil. "Trade."

"Oh, I don't know, Donna."

"You get this oil, for free, I might add, and I get the things I rightfully paid for, as well as my privacy."

"But as you pointed out, I have no one to use that oil with. Whereas you, who don't have any use for the oil either, I might add," he mimicked her, smirking, "have no doubt shopped for a number of items that can be used in a, er, solo capacity."

She couldn't stop her blush, but her voice didn't waver. "Josh, please," she said in a no-nonsense tone, yanking the bag hard.

He hung on and tugged at the bag a couple more times, letting her almost succeed in taking it from him before he moved in for the kill.

"You know, my shoulders are getting a little stiff, what with this little tug of war and all," he observed nonchalantly.

She stopped trying to wrest the bag away from him for a moment, realization dawning on her face. "No."

"Yes."

"No!"

"Come on, Donna, just once. You give good shoulder rubs."

She let go of the bag and stared him straight in the eye, knowing he wouldn't jeopardize his chances for a massage at this point.

"Besides, I deserve it. I did good today."

She looked down at the oil in her hand. "I suppose you want me to blow on you, too."

His mouth twitched, but he managed to keep a relatively straight face. "That would be nice. After all, that's what it's for."

"You're going to smell like grapes," she pointed out.

"You're the only person that's going to smell me."

Donna studied him for a moment, then said, "Fine."

"Excellent." He stopped trying to keep his face expressionless, grinning widely.

"I'm going to put the rest of these bags in the closet," she said, handing him the oil. He relinquished her bag. "Go into the bedroom, take off your shirt, and I'll be right there."

"Okay." Now that he was getting what he wanted, he did exactly as he was told, taking the oil into her bedroom and stripping off his shirt and tie. He laid them over the back of her chair, and after a moment's consideration, took off his undershirt as well.

He laid on his stomach on the bed, listening to Donna putter around, tidying her living room. Then he realized he was still wearing his shoes. Sitting up, he toed them off, then stripped off his socks too, reasoning that he might be able to talk his way into a foot massage as well if he played his cards right.

He laid back down, then noticed that the buckle of his belt was going to dig into his belly, especially if she worked her way from his shoulders down his back the way he hoped she would. He sat up again and pulled off his belt just as she came in the room with her pink plastic bag.

She threw him a wry look and he felt compelled to say, "That's all, I promise. I just wanted to be comfortable."

She dropped the bag down next to her bed. "Shoulders, Josh."

"Shoulders," he agreed. "And...neck."

She decided to give in on that. "Fine."  
******

Sometimes when he started to talk, she wished she could capture everything he said and study it. He was recounting his triumph in detail, explaining the nuances of the meeting, the characteristics of the players, and his tactics, and she found herself impressed yet again by his political skills.

She was getting privileged information, and the part of her that loved being a student wanted to record everything he said so that she could study it again later.

Of course, it would have been quite the incriminating tape. His narrative was frequently punctuated by sighs, groans, and "oh, right there, Donna, ohhh"s. Maybe a videotape would be better, so that it was clear she wasn't doing to him what people might think she was doing.

Well, actually a videotape would be worse.

Because now she had reached the blowing portion of the afternoon. Crouching down over him, she applied some fresh oil, took a deep breath, and blew a steady stream of air across his shoulders. He let out an incoherent noise of pleasure as the oil activated, heating his skin.

"Is that good?" she asked, grinning at his sudden inability to speak.

"Mmmm....uuhhhh...."

"I'll take that as a yes," she chuckled softly.

"You're enjoying this," he mumbled accusingly.

"So are you," she observed, swiping more oil down his spine and then breathing on it, warming a straight line up from his waist to his neck.

"Nnnnngh..."

His response might have had something to do with the fact that her thumbs were rubbing the excess oil into his lower back, down to the waistband of his trousers.

"Besides, watching you become completely incoherent? Where's the fun in that?" She decided to switch locales...if she delved too much lower, she was afraid that she wouldn't be able to resist sneaking a quick feel of his behind. Letting her oily fingers dance up his neck to his ears, she made sure the skin was well covered, then put her lips behind his ear and blew again.

"Oh GOD," he exclaimed into the pillow.

"I can do that at work," she continued, ignoring him and not bothering to hide her smile of satisfaction.

Apparently, he was beyond speech.

She got a bit more oil from the bottle and turned his head gently so that she could do the other side, blowing air along the side of his neck and up behind his ear.

His whole body went tense as he cried out again, loudly.

"You okay?" she asked with mock concern.

"Mmm....ngh....gah..."

"What was that?" she teased. Who knew this was going to be so much fun for her?

"Donna..." he groaned.

"What?" she asked, anointing his neck and blowing on it again.

"Aaagh..."

She couldn't resist leaning down close to him. "That's what I thought you said," she murmured in his ear.

He turned his face towards her sharply, sucking in a breath. Suddenly she felt his arm around her waist, pulling her on top of him as he rolled onto his back, and then he rolled again and she was beneath him, her lips parting under his, her hands clutching at the warm, silky skin of his back, her mouth welcoming him.

She didn't have time to be shocked, didn't even think about it. Her tongue tasted his and she deepened the kiss with a groan.

Instinctively she drew her leg up and his hips settled between her thighs, the very obvious length of his erection pressed in the crease where her leg met her groin. Without any conscious thought she arched under him and he made a noise as he began to kiss her more frantically.

Then, just as quickly as he had started, he stopped. He pulled away from her mouth and propped himself up on his hands above her, trying to minimize their body contact. "I'm sorry," he said. "I don't know what...well, I do know, but I shouldn't have done that."

She didn't say anything, watching him carefully, keeping her emotions off her face. As she considered her next move, though, she noted that although he'd lifted the top half of his body off her, she could still feel a long, hard shape pressing insistently against her pelvis.

Right.

Apparently, he wasn't that sorry. Like hell, she thought. No one coerced Donna Moss into giving a massage and got away with it.

A word jumped into her head...payback.

He was motionless above her, still watching her face. She bit her lip, tried her best to look uncomfortable, and wriggled.

Josh drew away from her and sat upright. "I'm sorry," he said again.

"It's okay, Josh," she said quietly.

He sprang off the bed, turning his back to her and pacing to the window. "No, it's not okay," he said firmly, staring out at the street below. He slammed his hand hard against the windowsill, making a frustrated noise. Turning, he began, "I can't..."

He stopped mid-sentence, staring at her.

One area of her in particular. She'd made use of the few seconds his back was turned.

"Oh my God," he said finally.

Her grin widened. "Yes, Josh?"

"Did your shirt just," he gestured, "I dunno, completely dematerialize? Or have I not been paying attention?"

She lobbed it at him, and before he had time to recover, tossed her bra at him as well. He caught both absently, his eyes never leaving her torso.

Sitting crosslegged and topless on her bed, her breasts exposed to his view, she laughed out loud at his expression.

He stumbled towards the bed again, her clothes falling from his loose grip. His hands reached for her, then dropped to his side, and she enjoyed the rare sight of Josh Lyman at a loss for what to do.

When her obvious amusement finally registered, though, he recovered enough to smirk. "Sooo, Donna," he said leadingly, climbing onto the bed next to her. "This is a new look for you?"

"You like?" She twisted behind her to grab her payback item and turned back to see him distracted by the movement of her bare breasts.

Eventually he raised his eyes to hers again. "What? Oh...yeah..."

Because she could, she shimmied her shoulders and watched him watch her breasts jiggle some more.

"God," he said. "You need to do that often. Every day."

There was nothing sweeter than a perfect setup. "Well...I don't know," she hedged. "I might get a little cold."

"I'll warm you up," he promised, reaching for her again.

She intercepted him by pressing the bottle of massage oil into his hands. "You know, that's just what I was thinking."

He looked down at the bottle and back up at her. "Now?"

She flopped back on the bed expectantly. "Now."

"We're both gonna smell like grapes," he protested weakly.

She sat up again. Her breasts shifted. He stared at them some more. "Should I put my top back on?" she asked.

She'd never seen someone twist the cap off a bottle so quickly. "Lay back, Donnatella," he said, his hand on her shoulder pressing her down to the bed again.

He started slowly. She was looking up at the ceiling and shuddered unexpectedly when his hands came down on her waist. He grasped her firmly, kneading the flesh, then slid his hands under her to the small of her back. She started to flip onto her stomach, to give him access to her back, but he stopped her with his hands.

"Just stay there, Donnatella," he instructed in a low voice.

She shivered at the sound of him as she lay back down again.

His hands, softened with oil, drew up over her stomach and painted strong, wide strokes down to the waistband of her jeans. He blew gently against her skin and the oil warmed. She moaned as the heat licked along her body.

The oil sloshed softly in the bottle as he wet his hands again. She inhaled in a rush of anticipation. He slid his fingers up the sides of her torso to her arms, pausing only to blow on her newly anointed skin before moving to her collarbone and chest. No matter how much she shifted suggestively, though, he seeming to avoid her breasts.

Positioning himself above her so that he straddled her hips, he leaned down, his face and amazing naked chest filling her field of view. She smiled up at him, but he didn't smile back. Instead, he lowered his lips to hers, until they almost touched, and blew a quick puff of air against her mouth. Laughing, she reached for him, but he had gone, leaning back to get more oil.

His hands went to work on her shoulders, the base of her neck, her upper arms, kneading the tension out of her. She didn't bother to stifle the noises of pleasure that burst from her. Now she could tell that he was working carefully, making a special point of avoiding her breasts, even though her nipples were erect and aching for him.

When his fingers tickled her ribcage, she moaned his name.

"What was that?" he teased.

"Please...my..." she broke off with an incoherent whimper when he leaned down and blew a stream of air across her belly.

"I thought so," he said. Lowering his head, he let his tongue reach out and wet the tip of one nipple. He swirled around the aureole, wetting it thoroughly as well, then repeated the actions with her other breast.

She gave a piteous little cry. "Please..."

"A little cold still, are you?" he asked, blowing on the wet skin, chilling it further. "Let me see..." His oil-slicked hands began to circle and shape the base of her breasts, coating them. Slowly he worked his way up her mounds, molding, shaping her rounded flesh while she writhed and made tiny noises. He finally reached the peaks, but instead of touching her nipples, he lowered his head and licked them again.

Then he blew down on her breasts again. Her skin heated, her nipples chilled.

A high-pitched cry tore from her and she bucked her hips upward. "Josh! God, please..."

He settled down on top of her, letting his weight trap her. Drawing one nipple into his mouth, he suckled it while he teased the other one, pinching it and tugging it between his thumb and forefinger.

She moaned in gratitude, but could no longer relax under his touch. The sensations he caused were overwhelming, filling her with a sense of urgency. Her hips lifted and her back arched as her body tried desperately to find the friction her sex needed. For once he obliged her, shifting so that her groin was in direct contact with his trousers.

Gratified, she rubbed herself against him, stroking her cleft against the fly of his pants. Even through two layers of fabric she revelled in the slight stimulation. She was only dimly aware that her fingers were digging into his scalp, keeping him at her breast. He sucked harder, then switched sides.

She was moving against him rhythmically now, her small whimpers sounding regularly, and he redoubled his efforts, caressing and kneading the breast that wasn't in his mouth. He let his teeth scrape over the other, nipping gently at the hard bud her nipple had become.

Then--right then--she realized exactly what was happening.

Josh Lyman was in her bed, on top of her, worshipping her breasts with his mouth in ways she'd never dreamed...and he was going to make her come.

Josh. Was going to make her--Donna Moss--come.

The concept filled her mind, brushing aside all other thoughts.

Josh was the one doing these things to her, not some faceless fantasy or casual fling...

This was Josh...

Josh.

That was when she cried out.

Her hips moved faster, in frantic, graceless motions, as he alternately nipped and soothed the reddened peaks with his mouth. Her last shout was completely incoherent as her hands left his head and grabbed his ass, pulling him down against her as she lifted her hips, crushing her groin against his.  
******

He could feel her heart racing, the shudders wracking her body, her soundless, airless cry when all the oxygen fled her lungs. Holding on to her tightly, he buried his face against her soft skin and inhaled the smell of grapes and her.

Of all the times he'd ever held Donna Moss, this was the best.

Far and away better than the brief-yet-treasured Christmas hug of 1999, it even topped the series of spontaneous Thank-God-You-Didn't-Die post-shooting embraces of summer 2000. Not because of its skin-to-skin naked possibilities--though those certainly made the experience unique--but because for once, he'd done something for her and neither of them had stifled their feelings about it.

Plus, he now knew he'd be able to hold her like this again in the future, without having to worry about thinking up a lame excuse.

When she finally sank back, her climax having run its course, he raised his head and met her indescribable eyes, torn between kissing her and making her shudder and shake and scream again.

She smiled at him...and the shuddering thing won. Releasing her, he shuffled down her body and reached for the fly of her jeans.

She gasped in shock. "Josh..."

"We're not done yet," he promised, grinning up at her.

"I didn't think we were," she purred, "but it's my turn...oh!"

Her words were abruptly cut off with a little shriek as his fingers dove into her jeans, scraped underneath her panties, and burrowed, searching for her already sensitized cleft. When he found it, he grinned up at her once more, then wrenched down her clothing just enough to bare her sex to his gaze.

"Beautiful," he murmured, taking a moment to dip his head and nuzzle her curls.

She made what was by now a familiar whimper of pleasure.

Then he yanked her jeans and panties down farther and buried his face between her legs.

She shrieked.

He wasted no time seeking out her clit with his tongue and lips. He slipped his tongue over her hot bud of flesh and swirled around it, savouring the salty taste. He'd never consciously imagined what she would taste like, and the faint scent of her curled around his nose, giving him the sense of almost unbearable sweetness mixed with tang and salt. He let his lips press and gently tweak, sensing the fullness and heat of a rush of blood to her groin.

She flailed helplessly beneath him, her legs trapped by his weight and her jeans, which were only halfway down her thighs. "Josh," she protested. "I can't...again...it's too soon..."

He didn't bother to answer her, but instead rolled them so she was awkwardly sprawled on top of him, his mouth directly underneath her sex. Together they shoved her jeans down until she could shuck them off completely.

He didn't wait; he lifted her up and forward so that her knees rested on either side of his head. Then he pressed them apart, splaying her thighs above his face and bringing her sex down to his mouth.

When he thrust his tongue up into her, she became incoherent, and he decided to try and keep her that way. She squirmed above him, but he paid special attention to the licks and strokes and nibbles that made her breath quicken until she panted, that made her panting turn to whimpers.

He was determined to be relentless, to not give her any escape: when she shifted her weight above him, he shifted too. He loved this feeling, knowing that even though she appeared to have the power to escape any time she wanted, he held her prisoner with his mouth.

As he continued to delve into her with his tongue, her panting breaths turned permanently into whimpers. She was getting close to another climax. Her weight shifted abruptly, and he was suddenly afraid she was going to topple head-first off the bed.

Digging his fingers into her hips, he helped her regain her balance and lifted her away from his mouth for a moment. She moaned in protest.

"You okay?" he asked. "Mmmph..."

She lowered herself onto his face again and he obliged her unspoken request by applying his mouth once more.

Her whimpers turned to faint, high-pitched cries. He smiled against her sex and kept going.

His hand, still clasping her hip, was being tapped repeatedly. She wanted him to take something from her. He released her hip and found a square packet being pressed into his palm.

He'd use it eventually, he thought, but not quite yet.

His hand slid over her hip and headed towards her mound. As his fingers stroked her in tandem with his tongue, her faint cries grew louder and her hands on his head tightened.

He let the edge of his teeth graze over the now hyper-sensitive bud of her clit.

Her cries turned to small screams.

He grazed her clit again, and again, then suckled her hard.

When she came apart above him, her cry was like nothing he'd heard. The sound went on and on, even after he'd stopped sucking. He pressed close-mouthed kisses against her folds and felt her shudder until the last tremors of her release wracked her body.

And when she was finally finished, all he could hear was her exhausted pants as she tried to regain her breath.

He helped her climb off his face, but she didn't go far, flopping onto her back beside him.

"Oh God," she managed.

He couldn't resist smirking. He propped himself up on one arm. "How you doing?"

She gave him the most amazing, sated, weary smile that rushed warmth straight into his chest. "Pretty good."

"Yeah?" The grin on his face widened.

"Really good," she amended. She tried to sit up, reaching for the waistband of his trousers, then flopped back again. "I think you may have worn me out," she said weakly.

Since her climax had almost sent him over the edge too, he wasn't willing to wait any longer. Chuckling, he started to undo his trousers himself. "Don't worry, I can do this part too."

"Josh!" As he rolled on top of her, the way her thighs automatically spread apart to cradle him belied her protest.

He shifted his weight to one side so that he could strip off the last of his clothing. "Whatever you're planning can wait until next time."

"Provided I live through this time," she mumbled under her breath.

He didn't bother responding. Finding the package she'd handed him earlier, he quickly sheathed his erection and positioned himself at the juncture of her thighs.

At first he pressed himself against her sex, nudging only his tip into her wet, overstimulated entrance. He watched her press her lips together to stifle a noise.

"You okay?"

She nodded, a look of surprise and then impatience crossing her face. "Please."

"Just wait," he murmured, shifting over her.

He gripped her hips, tilting them, and drove himself straight into her. She screamed his name just as he shouted hers.

He paused for a moment, waiting for her nod, and then his hips moved of their own accord, plunging him into her again and again. He relished her slippery heat, the way her body still seemed boneless from the pleasure of her recent climax, yet always closed around him snugly when he pushed inside her.

She didn't remain limp beneath him for long. Soon she was writhing as before, her hips coming up to meet his, and he savoured the soft sounds of their skins sliding together.

Silence filled the room except for the sounds of their bodies, the creaking bed, and the occasional moan of pleasure. Looking into her eyes he saw an answering understanding, and he was glad, for once, that neither of them wanted to talk. There were no half-articulated entreaties, no exchange of witty remarks to misdirect their feelings...just a quiet communion of emotions.

He moved in her, felt her move around him, until time lost meaning and he was adrift in the deep blue of her eyes. He savoured every stroke into her heat and softness, every gentle arch of her hips to meet him, every faint grunt that escaped her as he slid up into her as far as he could go.

Then, her eyes never leaving his, she reached up and drew him down to her lips, and they both lost the rhythm.

The urgency of their first desperate kisses returned and their bodies caught their excitement, moving furiously together. As soon as he swallowed her cry of release he finished himself without finesse, hammering into her with short, frenzied strokes as he spurted and came.

******

They collapsed together gracelessly.

He pulled out of her as gently as he could and disposed of the condom in some tissues. By unspoken assent they rolled onto their sides, facing each other. Her hand trailed along his side as she regarded him thoughtfully. His hand found her breast and stroked it absently as he met her gaze.

Neither of them spoke for a long time.

Then, because he could, he gathered her into his arms. She tangled her legs with his and buried her face against his neck.

"You know," he said eventually, nuzzling her hair. "If you'd told me this morning that I was going to get Somers on board, but that my day was going to end up a thousand times better than that, I wouldn't have believed you."

"A thousand times better?" she mumured with a smile he couldn't see.

"Well, you know me," he said. "I'm not given to hyperbole."

She chuckled against the warm skin of his neck. "Well, I have to confess that if you'd told me that my purchases at a bridal shower were going to lead to the most mindblowing sex of my life, I definitely wouldn't have believed you."

"The most mindblowing sex of your life?" he smirked.

"Well, you know me," she said, drawing back so she could meet his eyes. "I keep track of these things."

He was laughing when he kissed her.

  
Later, he had an idea. "So, can I look in that bag now?"

"Sure." Donna smiled at his eager look. "I don't think I have any secrets left."

"Not from me," he told her, grinning as he reached for the pink plastic bag by the side of the bed.

"Whoa."

"Mmm?"

"You lied."

"Yes."

"You did, in fact, buy a big, lifelike..."

"It's not really lifelike. It's stylized."

"Beside the point, Donna."

"And it's not that big."

"Uh..."

"Is it?"

"Uh...no, no it isn't."

"Should we do a comparison?"

"Comparison? Compare it with wh....ooooh....God. Donna."

"You don't mind, do you?"

"Nnngh...gah..."

"And maybe while I'm working on this one, you can figure out a way for me to really *compare* both of them."

"Oh God."

THE END

 

**Author's Note:**

> The songs are, of course, "Bootylicious" by Destiny's Child and "Dance With Me" by 112. The oil, if you care, is "Hot Intimate Kisses" by Shunga in a surprisingly pleasant flavour: Orgy of Grapes.


End file.
